


Into One

by mcal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, He just goes for it, Hermione Dreams in old black and white movies, My crazy Theo, This is pure bday present nonsense., eight year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: “It's like you're my mirrorMy mirror staring back at meI couldn't get any biggerWith anyone else beside of meAnd now it's clear as this promiseThat we're making two reflections into one'Cause it's like you're my mirror”—think Boyce Avenue featuring Fifth Harmony cover





	Into One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).

> Happy happy birthday my dear friend💙💛💙 when you first mentioned Theo and hermione back in Memorised, that almost sparked an idea... when you introduced me to ship Jamione, that sealed the deal for rare pairs. When you asked for a Theomione... this is what happened. I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy this small token of my affection for you.  
It’s midnight for me, so happy birthday. I’m humbled you read my nonsense and offer advice and encourage me. And I’m amazed and thankful to call you friend. You are so loved. 
> 
> Special thanks to Frumpologist for her alpha and beta eyes and encouragement along the way 💙 all remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

_ George Kitterage with his Godric-awful mustache steps back, an admiring gleam in his eye, as with smoldering embers. “You’re like some distant, well, queen, I guess Hermione. You’re so cool and fine and always so much your own. There’s a kind of beautiful purity about you, Hermione, like a stature…” _

_ “George…” Isolating despair spreads throughout her veins, squeezing at her heart like a vice. _

_ “Oh, it’s grand, Hermione,” George continues, not noticing the stricken look she can feel splitting her face in two. “It’s what everybody feels about you. It’s why I first worshipped you for from afar.” _

_ She reaches for him, stopping just before taking his hand. “I don’t want to be worshipped. I want to be loved.” _

_ He fades from view before Hermione can determine his response. _

_ A much younger, a much more dashing, and clean-shaven Macaulay Connor comes into view, and his eyes burn. They blaze with a passion fire as his mouth falls open. “You’re lit from within Hermione,” he says, and the cold clamp on her heart loosens just so. “You’ve got fires banked down in you, hearth-fires and holocausts.” _

_ “I… I don’t seem to be made of bronze to you?” _

_ “No, you’re made out of flesh and blood.” He shakes his head as he lunges for her, grasping her elbows, black eyes boring into her. “That’s the blank, unholy surprise of it. You’re the golden girl, Hermione. Full of life and warmth and delight…” _

_ Tears stream down her cheeks. “Keep talking, Mike. Keep talking.” _

_ His face dips down to hers, hand moving to her shoulder. “Are you using that Ancient and Obscure Egyptian, Greek and Latin Runes book, Granger?” _

_ “Huh?” She blinks, thoroughly confused now. _

_ “I said…” He shakes her shoulder now, “are you using that book, or do you intend on using it as a pillow and drool catcher for the duration of the night?” _

The black and white scene dissipated instantly, a startled, confused, and otherwise thoroughly put-out Hermione Granger was being literally shaken from sleep. _ Beautiful _sleep, she clarified to herself. 

Jet-lag was the absolute worst, and Hermione paused, blinking three times, vision unfocused as she took inventory of her surroundings: Table, chair, parchment, quill, two stacks of books, shelf after shelf stocked with books, and the low hum of people having jovial discussions. 

The library. She’d somehow managed to haul herself to the library after dinner, and as there the faint undercurrent of laughter could be heard, it couldn’t be a stressful time of term—

“A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice, Granger,” a voice, a _ male _ voice, interjected, colliding with her train of thought, forcing her to face the direction of the horrendous lit golden sconces to the left, where the speaker was standing. 

“I’m so sorry,” she managed, voice hoarse and dry, leading her to question how long she’d been asleep. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose, not fully able to place the looming male figure with a Slytherin green tie poking out from his dark jumper. “What was the question again?” 

The unknown Slytherin male snorted, and she can almost hear his eyes roll… along with the smirk climbing up his face. Because all Slytherin men smirked and rolled their eyes when the ‘Gryffindor Princess’ didn’t have an immediate answer. 

“Are you still using that runes book you fell asleep on? Or do you think you feel up to sharing it with someone who will use it for its intended purpose in the last hour before the library closes and Madam Pince banishes us all back from whence we came.” 

“Oh…” She forced her hand down, blinking several times at the books she’d supposedly surrounded herself with earlier. Ambitious, to say the least. “I appear to have several publications pertaining to runes, which one did you need again?” 

“_ Ancient and Obscure Egyptian, Greek and Latin Runes.” _

Ah. The one she’d been laying on. She shook her head. “I suppose not. Sorry, let me just…” She smoothed over the open pages, slightly mortified. “Here you go.” Closing the massive tome, she handed it to Stranger Slytherin. “How in the world did you recognise it?” 

“An educated guess actually.” His smirk softened into something... almost friendly…? Vivid blue eyes shone in the glow of the sconces. “All the necessary books for this assignment were absent from the shelf, and that was the only title I didn’t read from your stacks.” 

“Astute,” Hermione voiced, gaze sweeping across the familiarly unfamiliar Slytherin before her; reconciling with herself that she was merely ‘_ taking inventory’ _of his features to attach a name to the face. It was pure observation on her part to note his thick brown hair and the way it curled around his ears and across his brow; his strong, clean-shaven jaw, lean, but visibly taut muscles of his shoulders and chest, and—

“Nott!” She shook her head, raking an irritating hand through her curls. Merlin, she needed to get to sleep. “You’re Theodore Nott, correct?” 

There seemed to be something teasing in his responding smile, but he simply nodded, affirming her outburst. “My friends call me ‘Theo’, though, and seeing as how you and I are in all the same classes this year, it’s safe to presume we’ll eventually be getting on more friendly terms soon enough. So how about we skip the awkward month or so of calling each other by our surnames before a slipping transition? I’ll already be ‘Theo’ and you can just be ‘Hermione’.” 

Her brows shot up. “Are you always this familiar with people you’re technically meeting for the first time?”

“Only when I want to be.” There was _ definitely _ something more to that grin he flashed. Feral. Heart stopping. 

Or perhaps Hermione still had Jimmy Stewart and his swoon-worthy role in “The Philadelphia Story” front and centre in her sleep-dazed mind… “Good luck with the assignment tonight, _ Theo _.” She rose from her chair swishing and sweeping her wand in gestures to summon and gather her things in her bag. “It seems I’m more in need of a proper sleep than I realised.” 

“Too much living up life over the summer?” He winked—bloody _ winked _—at her as he shifted his stance, making room for her to pass by him. 

“Not in the least,” she scoffed, all previous distractions and flutters from this unexpectedly attractive male now completely shoved aside. She offered him a tight smile, giving herself a wide berth around him. “Goodnight.” 

“What, that’s all I get?” His voice carried the tone of shock, and when she turned around to face him, she couldn’t be sure if it was in mockery of the quintessential Hermione Granger explanations she usually provided, or he genuinely assumed she’d want to stay and talk with him. “Thought you were much more inclined to demonstrate just how locacious you were, _ Hermione _.” 

She gave an indelicate snort. Mockery. Unabashed and unapologetic mockery. “Some other time, Th—” A consuming yawn took control of her lungs and mouth, and she yanked her hand to her face in an attempt for decorum. “I think that’s my cue. Goodnight again.” 

He called out an answering “goodnight” as she walked away, that mocking chuckle screaming echoing loudly in her sleep-addled mind. 

* * *

“Hermione Granger, of all people…” 

Said witch rolled her eyes, gesturing to the space available to her left on the bench in the Great Hall. “Yes, because there’s rarely ever anyone else up for breakfast at this hour of the morning…” She sipped her tea, sliding her eyes to him as he sat down. “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?” 

“It seems you’re still an early riser, much like myself in fact.” Theo helped himself to several pieces of toast and summoned a pot of marmalade from the other side of the platter of eggs. “Then again, I think we have a lot more in common than either of us would have realised or acknowledged before this point in time, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“I suppose so.” Hermione snagged of a bit of toast herself, not necessarily thrilled at the idea of a lengthy early morning conversation. 

Theo poured himself a cup of tea followed by a large glass of pumpkin juice, head bobbing and thick locks fluttering in rhythm with his movements… Not that she was noticing things like Theodore Nott’s hair now… He bloody buggering winked at her (that was the tenth time in less than two weeks, not that she was counting) and said, “You’re not giving us enough credit if you can only ‘suppose so’, Hermione. We’ve been in most of the same classes since O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. You appear to enjoy a simple breakfast of tea and toast to a Full English, same as I, by the way. And we discovered over a night of studying last week that we’re both interested in becoming healers. Quite the foundation, I’d say.” 

Hermione hummed, anxious to have more tea coursing through her system in order to successfully make it through the next several hours of lectures and assignments after a late but leisurely Sunday night of pleasure reading and letter writing to her parents… 

“And there’s also the fact I’ve noticed how lovely you are for _ years _ now and you’ve finally caught on enough to notice what a looker I’ve become…” 

Choking sounds followed Theo’s unexpected declaration, as Hermione’s tea went down wrong, forcing her to gasp for necessary breath for a moment before she could even fathom any sort of response. 

“Blimey, no need to be all choked up about it, Princess,” Theo crooned, rubbing a giant circle over her back and withdrawing his arm before she had the chance to hex him into next week. “Don’t bother trying to deny anything; you were checking me out two weeks ago in the library when I woke you from that deep slumber. I’m choosing now to come clean with the facts that I know you were, and inform you the attraction is highly mutual so you wouldn’t have to waste time and energy fretting over such a trivial issue of attraction.”

“What makes you think…?” Hermione snapped her jaw shut, hands reaching to provide some relief to her temples. “I just… Merlin, it’s too early for this. What makes you think that even if there was some form of attraction on my part that I am at all interested in following through with it? I could be focused on studies and myself this year.” 

“That may be.” Theo’s head bobbed as he drummed his fingers over the rim of his plate. “And you certainly have the option to tell me that, but I thought you should know I’m an option for this year. Even beyond if you’re interested.” 

Her brows shot into her hairline. “You’re... an option…” Oh hell, she was a parrot at this hour of the day without enough tea. A sodding parrot. 

“Precisely,” he confirmed. “Krum may have been the first wizard to make any sort of public declaration of his admiration for you, but he shouldn’t be the only or last. You’re a brilliant, clever, talented, powerful, and fucking gorgeous witch. And any man worth his galleons ought to grant you the courtesy of making his feelings known.” 

“I thought…” A thick swallow that she hoped would settle the butterflies and snitches now loose in her stomach. “I thought we were becoming friends. Studying together and the like.” 

“We are.” His blue eyes gazed into hers, as vibrant and deep as the Mediterranean Sea. “But I wouldn’t be a proper friend if I danced the awkward dance of feelings like some clumsy fourth year for months on end, would I?” 

She found herself shaking her head, transfixed in the wake of such arresting honesty.

He floated a hand towards her face, gaze fixed on a curl that had loosed itself across her face… but he withdrew before she could know if his intent was to wind it around his finger, or tuck it gently behind her ear. His hand dropped to the table and he smiled, squaring his shoulders. “At the risk of repeating myself, you’re a brilliant witch, and you deserve to know in advance I intend on asking out to things outside of school. This doesn’t negate studying and larking about the school grounds as friends, not for a moment. I’ll tell you if I’m meaning the occasion to be as a date or not, so you can reject or accept.” 

“That’s… decent and fair of you.” How else was she supposed to respond?! 

“I thought so,” he chirped, reaching for his teacup, cradling it in his other hand. “The choice will be yours, but no more of this serious business when someone could come up and interrupt our private conversation at any moment—tell me all about what’s new and scandalous in the world as reported by _ The Daily Prophet. _”

With movements robotic and stuttered, Hermione grasped for her newspaper and handed it to her breakfast companion, too nervous she’d make even more an idiot of herself to say anything else.

* * *

“I don’t get you at all, Theo.” 

“I’m a simple man if you stop to think about it.”

Hermione shook her head, loose curls sliding across her the back of her jumper. “You’re not though. Not in the least.” She took a delicate sip of her butterbeer, careful to not absorb any foam as a mustache. “I think you’re actually someone who considers himself simple, but is actually quite complex and high maintenance when it’s all said and done, which is worse than said previous claim of simplicity.” 

Theo snorted reaching for his glass of butterbeer. “I think you’ve just described Draco, actually, but do tell…” A sip from his glass, those arresting blue eyes never leaving hers. “How exactly have I given the wrong impression of myself?” 

“You use a very specific brand of parchment for one.” Hermione held up her hand, lifting a finger with every intention of counting examples off as they were listed. “It’s custom-made and ordered from an ancient store in Italy.” 

“Researching things about me already, Princess.” An infuriating smrk curled up his face as he dropped his chin into an open and waiting palm. “I’m flattered. You’ll have to let me know if all your findings mean I pass some unwritten exam of qualities…” 

“Shush,” she hissed, well aware of heat flooding her cheeks and desperate to move the conversation forward… and yet, strangely enjoying every moment of it. Theo provoked this confusing paradox within her heart and mind. “It wasn’t all that hard to look up, since you keep the parchment in the protective casing I assume it’s delivered in, and no more interruptions if you don’t mind.” 

He gave an airy wave of his hand as he took another drink from his glass, which she took as unspoken assent—but she had planned on continuing regardless. She had a prepared list to get through, after all. 

“Next,” she said, holding up a second finger, “there’s the puzzling fact that you also purchase custom ink, but use bargain quills that may be ordered and purchased in bulk. Third,” (another finger raised up), “you claim you’re best friends with Malfoy, but I only remember seeing you around Zabini and Greengrass all these years. And there’s the fact that Malfoy was always surrounded by Goyle and Cr—” The name died on her lips and her cheeks flamed, for an entirely different reason now, though. 

“Sorry.” She forced a softness in her tone now, entirely uncertain about Theo’s history with their dead classmate. “Not to make light of the person he was... But he and Goyle are mostly who I remember being with Malfoy.” She shrugged, looking back to her hand, mentally debating if she should continue… 

“Anything else?” Theo’s expression was calm and unassuming as her eyes slid back to him. 

Message received, heart fortified to continue, she lifted a fourth finger. “You came back to redo this year, when you could have taken the easy route of preparing for and sitting for your N.E.W.T.s over the summer. You could have already been enrolled into a healer program right now, yet here you are.” 

A brow quirked back at her. “The last could be said for you, Hermione.” He threaded his fingers together, resting them on the edge of the table. “In fact, I’m confident you could have simply applied to the program at St. Mungo’s and they would have already admitted you and offered to pay your Hogwarts tuition fee for this year and all the way through healer training.” 

“Bollocks,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes. “My priorities weren’t on the magical world immediately after the war. I needed to be with my parents.”

“I see.” His leg stretched out under the table, foot resting against hers, its warmth seeping into her. “Does this have anything to do with your arrival to school late on the first and your otherwise unaccounted for tiredness that first week?” 

A curt nod of affirmation as her lips folded inward on each other. 

He canted his head. “Anything you want to talk about yet?” 

“Not particularly,” she answered, shoving several curls behind an ear. “It’s not what I consider first date conversation… Maybe sometime this week or next at the library.”

“All right.” His head bobbed, eyes darting around the room for a moment before landing back to her. “I have logical explanations for everything you listed off, which may prove that, instead of being the ponce you mistake me for, I’m merely a man who knows what he likes, and doesn’t settle. Such insight may easily be yours in return for a single personal fact about you.” 

Four in exchange for one… “Very well,” she conceded, wrapping her fingers around glass, all the while stretching her own leg, allowing her denim-covered calf to rest against his. “Enlighten me, Theo.” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat, blinking several times, so that she couldn’t be entirely certain if his eyes truly had darkened several shades just now, or if that had been a trick of the lighting. “I grew up mostly with the Malfoy family for reasons I decline to share at this time, but when Narcissa was teaching Draco and I to write, her secrets to perfect penmanship were good quality parchment and proper ink. She said quills come and go, and all you really need to determine with a quill is if you prefer a thinner or thicker tip to hold—no sexual innuendo intended there, love.” He winked and her cheeks bloomed again, lips twisting before she could smile too big. 

“Why the focus on the parchment and ink?” she asked, determined to move the conversation along. 

“Proper parchment absorbs the ink immediately to reduce the chance of smudging, and a quality ink will write without bleeding through.” 

All of that was actually pretty interesting, fascinating when she thought a bit more about it, and she nearly felt stupid for _ not _thinking that way before. She’d always just purchased what was most economical at the shops... “I may take that into consideration after Hogwarts,” she found herself saying, hastily adding, “if I don’t switch back to Muggle pens and legal pads after school.” 

“Muggle what?” 

She chuckled, reaching for her drink. “I’ll tell you later. I believe you’re going to explain to me the bit about Malfoy next…” 

“Already did a bit.” He spread his hands, shrugging his shoulders. “The Malfoys became my second family in a way, but I would never let Draco boss me around with any of his shite. Once we were about to start school, Lucius took Draco aside and instructed him to find lackeys, as it were, beyond simply having allies. And to be fair, Potter only ever really paid attention to Draco when he was acting out or vying for attention; I, on the other hand, prefer to remain hidden in the shadows.” 

“And then spring your attention on the unsuspecting bystanders when least expected?” 

That boyish grin returned, light dancing in his eyes. “Precisely.” He leaned forward, resting his arms against the edge of the table, staring those blue eyes into hers. “And as to the last thing, returning to Hogwarts was me being a tad bit selfish with regard to my own choices, I suppose.” 

_ Curious. _Hermione leaned in as well, sliding her drink to the side. “Oh?”

A slight nod and soft hum. “It gave me the option of one final year to just experience school without the looming threat of undying dark wizards, friends under oath to commit impossible tasks like murder, and so on.” He licked his lips, eyes floating between her lips and eyes. “One final year to see if there were any available opportunities I’d yet had the courage and opportunity to explore.” 

“Oh…” she breathed, traitorous cheeks ablaze again, heart racing in her chest. She’d identified easily enough with part of what he’d said, but this… With Harry in Auror training and Victor being little more than an occasional correspondent now, she hadn’t considered anything… _ more _… With anyone, really. 

But Theo’s warm gaze sparked something entirely different in her. Something consuming and smoldering. Something that scared, confused, and excited her. 

Something that terrified and excited her as he paid for their drinks and they spent the rest of the afternoon in Hogsmeade, exploring the newly refurbished shops, getting lost in sharp conversation and bantering debates about the merits of Latin-based spells over Greek-based.

* * *

“Have you felt lonely at all this year?” 

“What?” Theo blinked up at Hermione from his Arithmancy assignment, confusion etching across his brow. 

It had been two weeks since their first date and they’d fallen into an easy rhythm of classes, homework, and beginning preparations for N.E.W.T.s. Neville and Luna frequently joined them on weeknights at the library, along with Daphne Greengrass, who Hermione had honestly been enjoying getting to know. Ron had originally asked Hermione to keep an eye on Ginny for him, but Ginny had her hands full as Head Girl and Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, which Hermione had decided was a good thing. Ginny was more like Molly than she wanted to admit and things to keep her busy. 

Not to mention there was still a lingering bit of tension between Hermione and the red-headed witch over an incident in a tent coming up on a year ago now...

“Lonely,” Hermione repeated, shoving such distracting and otherwise not helpful thoughts aside. “Malfoy and Zabini didn’t come back, and I was wondering if you ever felt lonely this year.” 

“Haven’t had the chance to, love.” He held her gaze with deliberate, unblinking eyes now. “The company I’ve been keeping is more than enough to satisfy my need for emotionally fulfilling human interaction.” 

“Oh.” She bit down on her lip, but couldn’t bring herself to look away, even as heat rose in her cheeks. Embarrassment, that was all it was. She couldn’t bloody form a proper sentence when he caught her off guard and said endearing things like _ that _… 

He loosed a husky chuckle, its ripples kissing the air around her cheeks, sending a shiver down her spine. “Draco writes, he and Narcissa are happy and figuring this new phase of life out with Nacrissa’s long-lost sister and a baby—”

“Teddy!” she exclaimed, unexpected joy bubbling at the thought of Remus and Tonks’ little one.  
  
“Yes, him.” Theo confirmed. “So, they’re all living together on the French Riviera for the time being; self-care, healing, and moving on in the aftermath of it all. I have orders to spend Christmas holiday with them, and I’m chuffed I’m still expected and wanted in the midst of all their family reuniting and such.” 

Hermione smiled, angling herself in her seat to face Theo more, homework momentarily forgotten. “That’ll be nice. What about Zabini?”  
  
“Blaise and Pansy are travelling the world, with the occasional break back at his villa in Italy to recoup and refresh their money pouches for the next adventure.” He shifted his seat a bit more towards hers. “Have you been lonely without Potter and Weasley?” 

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Not that everything thus far hasn’t been delightful, unexpectedly delightful, rather, but I sometimes miss what was familiar and known about school before. And then I tell myself that’s all just silly, because nothing was ever normal or uncomplicated before; everything was always leading up to Harry and Voldemort, and…” A complacent shrug, her heart twisting within its bony cage. 

“You don’t…” Theo cleared his throat, coughing a moment, too. “You don’t miss Weasley especially, do you? I mean…” Another cough. “In a fancying way that is…?” 

An easy smile curled across her lips. “No,” she said, almost happy to confide in someone who hadn’t always pegged her as having a future with Ron. “It may interest you to know that I haven’t felt that way about Ron since the end of fifth year.” 

“Liar! That’s an out—” His outburst was cut short when Hermione clamped a hand over his mouth, glaring and shushing him, and only realising she was hovering over his lap when his eyes travelled down the length of her body.

She cleared her throat, backing away as if his touch had scalded her… _ Maybe it had, _her treacherous mind thought. Maybe they’d been dancing around the touch barrier for weeks now and she’d been just hoping for the most opportune moment to cross that line…

“I apologise, Theo.” She huffed and shoved a mass of curls behind her shoulder. “But if Madam Pince gets on to us for what she deems ‘disruptive behaviour’ again…” She lost her train of thought at the smolder in his brilliant blue eyed, drawing attention to flecks of green and grey. 

“I maintain she was overreacting last week,” he murmured, voice rumbling in the substantially less space between them, though she couldn’t for the life of her determine who had moved closer to whom… “But fret not, my Gryffindor swot—” he smirked, catching her completely off guard by blowing her a kiss, “—we’re not getting banned from the library today, or any other day, because I cast a specialised Silencing charm over the area before you showed up.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Any other guy I’ve known the same amount of time as you, but for now, I’m going to credit you with solid planning ahead.” 

“Thank you, m’lady.” He gave an exaggerated bow while sitting in his chair, chuckling as he came back upright. “Now then, come again with the juicey Weasley details. Did you get tired of waiting? Get together with Potter in Muggle London that summer?” 

There was a clear answer, and there wasn’t any particular reason not to tell him; evenso, she hesitated, biting down on the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but this was definitely crossing a line that they’d never come back from. Intimate details like these… once shared… an exchange such as this had a way of forever altering an ordinary friendship…

Not that there was anything ordinary in their friendship to begin with, so what was she so worried about anyway? 

“Mum, Dad, and I were all invited to visit Romania the summer before sixth year and…” A thick swallow, more to take a moment than anything else. Because she’d only told one other person, someone it’d seemed should know the extent of her experience—or lack thereof, depending on the point of view. “Viktor and I never got around to the sex part of it all,” she whispered, in spite of the cover of the Silencing charm, “but he was my first in a few other ways.”

“His attempts to woo were not all in vain after all.” How is it Theo could sound almost _ smug _ about this??

“Suppose not.”

An awkwardly silent beat passes between and just as Hermione was about to declare her concerns entirely valid and wish she could take it all back, Theo grasped the back of his neck, rubbing hard.  
  
“Mandy Brocklehurst,” he said, mouth twisting and the space between his nose crinkling. “I know it’s tradition for Purebloods to remain more innocent on the physical side of things before marriage, but it was the beginning of last year… She’d actually been pining for Draco for quite some time, but he wasn’t in the frame of mind for anyone then. And I kept trying to convince myself I wasn’t worried at all for a certain Gryffindor who had gone and shattered everything I thought I knew about her when she didn’t return for seventh year…” 

A painful tug at her heart. A swell of emotions that burned within her chest, threatening to claw its way up her throat. Her mouth was as sand and it was imperative to attempt to swallow several times before successfully speaking again, her voice shaky and watery. “When it was all said and done, it… it ended up being one of the hardest decisions I had to make, going with Harry for his mission.” Tears pooled in her eyes, scalding her skin as they leaked out. “Theoretically, I knew the cost of all my choices, but I don’t think anyone’s ever truly ready to pay the toll when push comes to shove.” 

She hoped he’d understand the mythological references in her metaphor, Merlin, she hoped he did. She swiped at her eyes, wishing they could just get back to school work, because, _ Godric _, she was still broken. Still missing pieces, still putting herself back together, and she really couldn’t handle explaining something as simple as “paying toll” right now…

“‘There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast,” he began, one of his warm hands now resting on her shoulder, fingers curling and squeezing gently. “‘A sordid god: down from his hairy chin, A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean…’” 

“‘His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire’,” Hermione answered, “‘A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.’” A weak bend to her lips. “I have to admit, sharing a quote by Virgil with a classmate from Hogwarts is definitely a first for me.” 

Theo’s answering laugh shot right through her, leaving a tingling sensation pulsing through her body long after she and Theo called it a night and she’d wrapped herself in her bedspread in her dorm room. She tried not to allow herself to squelch it with logical reasonings and explanations plaguing on her doubts, and it was no surprise to her that in the end, she hardly managed to sleep at all. 

Not with confusing things like Theodore Nott around to be the cause of such a chaotic internal war. 

* * *

Days bled into weeks, which turned into months. 

Hermione and Theo had been on two more casual solo dates about Hogsmeade and one double date with Neville and Luna, though, they’d yet to have any sort of defining relationship talk. The words always caught in her throat anytime she thought about it, and Theo proved himself a man of his word, never pressing for more than Hermione was certain she could give. 

The flirting continued, sometimes to the point it was downright distracting, and Hermione was certain she would one day melt like The Wicked Witch of the West… But still he waited, only gently toeing the lines of physical contact between them. 

Letters feel from above as owls soared through the open windows of the Great Hall on this sunny December morning. Two small envelopes landed next to Hermione with a ‘_ plop’ _ and she smiled through the twisting of her heart as she read the senders’ names. 

“Ho hum, the holidays come.” Theo’s sing-song voice warmed through the ache of the moment, and she told herself it hardly meant anything _ at all _ that it was her first instinct now to flash him a quick smile and turn herself on the bench so that she either leaned into his presence or angled herself to face him directly. 

Said Slytherin flung himself down on the empty space beside her, facing the wall, but propping his arms against the table and looking right at Hermione. “And what took you so long to get down here this morning? You’re so late, even Longbottom’s long gone off for what I can only presume is last minute preparation for the Herbology exam this afternoon, and _ not _ an exclusive snog session in a broom closet with his witch...” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to not think about the potential shenanigans of Neville and Luna... “I had to make plans for an international portkey in the headmistress’s office for the holidays.” 

“Ah, yes.” Theo nodded. “A new Christmas experience for the two of us this year, and bully for us, I say!” He wink and nudged her arm, but a deep look etched his eyes as Hermione was only able to offer a tight smile in return. “What is it, Hermione?” 

“Quite a few things, really,” she admitted, looking back to the letters. “Things are still a mite tense with my parents, for lack of a better way of putting it. I don’t think they fully trust me yet, and part of me is certain they never will again.” 

Theo moved before she had time to think, righting his posture before leaning down and dropping a kiss to her curls. Her eyes fell closed as she leaned into him… Burrowing herself into Theo’s scent of cologne and shampoo. It was _ so _ nice having confided in him about her parents and the extreme lengths she’d gone to protect them before the war.  
  
“Just give them time,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head once more before pulling back. “It’ll come, you’ll see. Christmas should help things, right?” 

“I can only hope.” She cleared her throat in an effort to mask the thundering of her heart. “The letters are from Ron and Harry,” she volunteered, casting him a side look. “They’re probably asking when I plan on arriving to the Burrow for Christmas because I hadn’t told either of them yet that I’m not coming.” 

“Really?” 

She shook her head, almost wincing at the shock in his tone. “I didn’t know how things would be with Mum and Dad, to be honest. If they still wanted me to come, or if they’d decide at the last moment to up and do a cruise, to take some more time for themselves. And then there’s the thing that Ron rarely writes; he only ever wrote Harry over summers, and Harry… Well…” A weak shrug, followed by an even weaker: “I guess I shouldn’t have expected things to be completely normal just yet.” 

“I don’t know about that, love.” Theo had settled back into his previous laid-back position, his forearm resting against her hand and wrist. “When you told me, you said that you both agreed it was a one-off, and a moment of pure loneliness and need. I think it says a great deal about the strength of your relationship that you carried through the rest of the war acting as a unit like you did. And even more that he was one of the people who went with you to help you find your parents over the summer.

“And if you think about it,” Theo continued, his tone significantly lighter now, “how often did he ever really write you to begin with—not too much more than Weasley, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Such a deceptively easy admission for such a weighty topic. “I’m already prone to worrying and over thinking, but this feels a bit more layered to work through than anything else before.” 

Without thinking, or pausing to consider if she should or shouldn’t, she lifted her hand, only to press it over his taut forearm, squeezing it while offering him the brightest smile she could manage. “Thanks, Theo.”

His throat bobbed while his eyes shone brightly into hers. “Anytime.” He reached his other arm over, closing that hand over hers still resting on his arm. “It’s why I haven’t been too anxious to press matters with us.” 

“Pardon?” She was getting lost in a sea of blue, green, grey, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be found… 

“I mean, things like sex and snogging.”

“_ What?!” _ She jerked back, eyes wide, and heart thrashing against her ribcage.

A wicked smirk curled up his face and he only leaned closer, his breath warm over her nose. “Snogging, sex, and anything else young lovers find to get up to. We’re on your time table, love.” And without another word, he stood in a single fluid movement, running his hands down the front of his school robes, smoothing over non-existent wrinkles. “I’ll be in the library until our runes exam. You’re welcome to join me, but no pressure if you need some time alone.” 

* * *

_ Dear Theo, _

_ I’m completely speechless! When I said I’d like look into cursing inks and parchment after Hogwarts, I wasn’t just saying it to be polite—but you’ve more than out done yourself with this “starting kit”. I can’t help but feel I’m going to enjoy this pot from India most already. The colour is so rich, and it even smells of cardamom and cinnamon. _

_ Thank you! You’ll have to make sure I’m properly storing and transporting them about as soon as we’re back. _

_ Happy Christmas, again. _

_ Hermione _

* * *

_ Hermione Granger, _

_ You are the absolute best gift giver in the history of all civilization. And, no, I do not exaggerate. _

_ First, not one, not two, but three books on homeopathic magic, potions, and spells as used by specialist healers across Asia… but THEN, you go on and on top of that a specialised, personalised time chart for the rest of the term. _

_ I motion we move Valentine’s Day’s transfiguration review session to Saturday that week for a double session. I’d prefer to take a certain Gryffindor eighth year witch (you) to dinner that evening, if you don’t mind. We’ll resume all things swotty on the fifteenth. _

_ Cheers, _

_ Theo _

* * *

January was an absolute misery. A week back and already she’d fallen face first in the snow not once, not even twice, but _ five _ separate times. 

Five. In one week. 

As if adjusting back to the time zone wasn’t enough, the extreme change in climate had wreaked havoc on her immune system and her nose was now red and blotchy from constant sniffling and blowing. Theo had improvised with a missing ingredient to brew her a special tea, but that only succeeded in creating some extreme hormonal imbalance followed by her monthlies visiting her a whole _ six _ days early.

“You look better today.” Theo appeared from seemingly nowhere—though, logically, she knew she must have been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him—and immediately fell into step with her, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

There was nothing in her to protest. No strength of mind or will to argue that he wouldn’t want her cold or that she’s an unstable nightmare of emotions and hormones at this moment… So, she settled for what seemed best for now: grunting in ironic agreement and cuddling herself deeper into Theo’s side. 

_ Theo. Warmth. Smells like Theo. _

Merlin, her mind was a mess when addled by disease and estrogen. 

“Want to skive off history so bad,” she bemoaned into his side, trusting him to not let her walk into a wall. 

“Do it.” His chest rumbled under her face and it was _ so... lovely… _

“Think I can’t.” Her words seemed muffled and distant, so she was forced to look up to make understandable conversation. Stupid day… “Exam next week, right?” 

He chuckled, tightening his hold around her. “That we do, but you’re not doing yourself any favours if you don’t give yourself time to rest and get better. That could only impede your ability to study later down the road, love.” 

That made… sense. A lot of sense now that she thought about it. 

Theo was so smart. And helpful. And his arm around her felt so perfect and warm; like his arm was created with Hermione Granger in mind and wrapping it around her someday. 

And he still smelled so. Bloody. Good. 

It was, therefore, the most logical thing in the world for her to lift herself on the balls of her feet and brush her lips to his cheek. What she hadn’t accounted for, however, was the fact that Theo would turn his face, mouth open as one generally does when about to say something… And that was Hermione’s only explanation for how she ended up kissing Theodore Nott’s jaw. 

The planned kiss to the cheek had been a spontaneous outcome of a logical flow. It could also be argued that when Theo nuzzled into her touch, breathing her name as if it were a prayer, it was only logical for her lips to shift, on purpose this time, and that they should close over his. 

And suddenly she was kissing Theo, and being kissed by Theo… And, _ Godric, _ the wizard could kiss. Their bags were dropped and they were suddenly kissing and herding Hermione over to a wall, Theo’s arms binding around her waist, hands frantically climbing up her neck, until they sank into her curls. She wound her hands around his neck, opening her germ infested mouth to his…

He bloody _ moaned _ when their tongues met, and Hermione couldn’t remember why they hadn’t been doing this all along already. Theo felt so good, he cared for her so, she was enjoying him, had even come to care for him, and his mouth had begun to do something _ delicious _ against her neck… And she’d forgotten how _ nice _ it felt to be in someone’s arms, and—

“Theo…” She’d meant it as a way of getting his attention, of halting their frantic exploration, but her voice must have been too breathy. He murmured her name again, nipping and laving at that still beautiful spot… And she couldn’t remember why she’d said his name… 

Something hardened against her core, impressive, considering their robes… 

_ Oh. _

“Theo.” Her hands dropped and pushed against his shoulders. “Theo… We have… we have to stop.” 

His blue eyes were hazy and there was such a beautiful, contented star-struck expression about him as they looked at each other, breathless, chests heaving… She hated what she was going to have to say next. 

“We can’t—” she started, shaking her head, wriggling so that he’d drop his hold. 

His arms fell, but he did not back away. His brows began pulling together. “We can’t what?” 

“_ This _. Whatever line all this is…” She shook her head again, yanking curls over her shoulders. Water ran down her cheeks, and for a moment she supposed it was snowing inside or the roof was leaking, but she felt her chest seize, heard the watery gasp from her lips, and she knew she was crying. “We just… I can’t hurt you, Theo. I’m a mess. An unholy mess, and I don’t know if I'm just acting on instinct and hormones to make myself feel better, or if it’s more.” 

“I don’t c—” 

“Don’t say you don’t care.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, edging herself further from him. “We both know that’s a lie. So I’m… I’m going to go to my room. We’re going to forget about this, and not seeing each other until class tomorrow… and…” Her heart was sinking. It was sinking and crumbling in her chest. 

She carried on, though. “We’re going to forget about it, all right?” 

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have asked for his confirmation, because she didn’t wait around for it. She turned on her heel and ran and ran, lunging down three flights of stairs before she realised she’d left her bag… 

And that her dorm was back in the direction of Theo...

* * *

“Hermione Granger!” 

“_ Gah!” _ Hermione whirled around, heart pounding as her eyes already searched for the owner of the voice.

He wasn’t hard to find. Theo has propped himself against a wall at the turn down a darkened corridor, a feral smile perched on his face. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t last long.” 

“Don’t know what you mean,” she shot back, arms folding over her chest, attempting for a menacing look, but the way Theo sauntered towards her, her book bag carelessly hanging from his shoulder, she knew he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. 

She damn near whimpered when he stopped right in front of her, dropping her bag. His eyes seared into hers as he dipped his head. “Yes, you do.” There was no malice or ire in his words. He was just… Theo, but with a more gravelly feel to his voice. “You went to Madam Pompfrey for that Pepper-Up like I suggested, right?” 

“What of it?” She jutted her chin out as she met his gaze. “I missed most of classes today, but I refuse to fall behind on the studying time table.” 

“Was it all that productive without your book bag, love?” 

Merlin, he, his terms of endearment, and that perfect voice would be the death of her. “Not particularly.” She huffed. And swallowed. And let her mask of defense fall. “But I couldn’t very well come after you once I’d made a stupid idiot of myself earlier today and told you we shouldn’t see each other until class tomorrow, could I?” 

“Other people would,” he countered, loosing a low chuckle while floating a hand out to her curls. He wound one around his finger, eyes unblinking as she inexplicably took a step closer. Closer to him. “It’s entirely possible that war has skewed our perceptions of love and romance, Hermione, but I have a say in us, too, and I don’t think past circumstances should cause you to doubt your heart. Or your instincts.” 

“I know, it’s just—”

“It’s not easy,” he interjected, leaning lower, touching his forehead to hers. “I don’t think it’s meant to be. Mandy was about me trying to forget you, and maybe Krum was about revenge against Weasley. Maybe Potter was about comfort and need, but don’t doubt yourself or any future with someone else because of your past. 

“You know what love is.” He paused, pressing a kiss to her nose, then cheek. “You’ve lived out parts of it for the last seven years: it’s selfless and fearless protection. And then it’s finding home and rest in a single soul… It’s taking two separate lives and being willing to make choices to mold them into one team. A team that builds up and supports each other.” 

Her heart wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t _ breathe _. “Theo…” 

A silencing kiss to her lips, delicate and tasting of something scarily bittersweet. “You need to decide if this is what you want for you. I’ve already made my decision.” 

He backed away from her now, giving a wide berth as he slipped his hands in his pockets and made his way down the corridor. He was walking away… 

_ She was letting him walk away… _

“Theo!” She lunged like a woman possessed, sprinting, until her hands snatched at his jumper, she turned him around and crashed her lips to his. 

He wrenched himself from her hold, eyes wild. “Are you sure, love?” 

“Yes.” She nodded, a lone tear tracking down her cheek as her arms reached for him. “Very much, yes.” 

What followed was a clumsy, fumbling, giggling mess of kissing and ambling downstairs before they unofficially officially agreed upon the Slytherin dorms. Theo’s voice rasped as he asked her if she was sure over and over, while Hermione answered with a breathy “yes” every. Single. Time.

Once there, she teased that he’d definitely made use of an enlarging charm on his Hogwarts standard-issue bed, while Theo growled and kissed her until she broke away to cast necessary charms over herself… 

And maybe it was too soon to determine if it was love, want, or need that led Hermione to reach for Theo’s tie, suddenly shy and hesitant as she asked him with her eyes if she could loosen it. Maybe it was wanton desire more than anything else at the moment that coursed through her system as she yanked at his shirt and he took hold of her bum, tracing down the length of her legs and back up her bare thighs. 

Maybe it was more lust than deeper affection as she pleaded and he complied and buried himself to the hilt in her waiting sex. 

But then again, maybe that was something they could discuss in the aftermath of thrusts, moans, and sated sighs. After all, Theo enjoyed talking more than anyone else she knew, and maybe it would be easy to come to mutual understandings and conclusions… Because maybe the missing aspect to attempts of the past had been time. 

Maybe time was a more essential factor in the reshaping of two lives into one than Hermione had first considered...

Theo’s arm curled around Hermione’s waist and he dropped a kiss to her brow as sleep claimed them. It wasn’t until the next morning that they realised she’d abandoned her book bag to a lonely hallway, _ again _. And this time, there was a menacing Poltergeist to contend with. Theo only laughed it off, telling Hermione to see it as their first major hurdle to face as a couple. It was then Hermione knew, down to her marrow, that it was love. 

And she was unafraid of whatever could come next. Because she had Theo, and Theo had her, and they’d forge their own way through into the future. 

Together.


End file.
